This hiccup with my planned anthology, along with one of my stories getting cancelled, has brought me to a full stop.
It’s a simple case of writer’s doubt I know, but I’ve taken a good hit to the ego and I need some recovery time.
It’s not like the time I didn’t write for two weeks, though. It’s not that I’m not writing at all. I’m still writing blog posts and writing in my journal and sketching out some story ideas and the like, but all work on my short stories has completely stopped, even the ones that had nothing to do with the anthology. I just don’t want to look at them. I don’t know what to do with them. I don’t want to start a new one. Bleh bleh bleh.
So I shot myself in the foot this month. What I want to get accomplished isn’t going to be accomplished because I ran smack dab into this brick wall and I’m doing a fair bit of whining and moping instead of problem-solving to get by it.
The thing is, though, I’m letting myself do it. I have a right to wallow a bit. The wallowing isn’t stopping me from working on OTHER things. In fact, I’m directing a bit of that wallowing towards other projects because it let’s me feel like I’m not a complete failure and I’m not being totally useless.
But I don’t see any reason why I should deny myself the opportunity to experience this disappointment. How else will I learn? How else will I get stronger? How else will I figure out how to cope and how to recover and how to overcome?
So maybe full stop isn’t the best way to describe this since only one thing has really stopped (temporarily).
Everything else is still plugging away.